


Tend to end up bent and broken

by Grimmseye



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hallucinogens, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Juno has a bad time and his family is gonna murder the person responsible, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmseye/pseuds/Grimmseye
Summary: Juno was laid on a metal table that looked more suited to holding a corpse than a breathing body. For a moment that stilled Jet’s heart, he appeared to be just that: gray, still, and lifeless. Then he caught just the barest hitch of his chest, and he could move again. He kicked a dying guard aside to make room at the doors, he and Buddy both flanking the exit with their blasters in hand.Ransom was the first to reach him. These were the moments that felt most sincere from the thief, though again, Jet had no capacity for such a thought. Only in retrospect would he realize that he only felt he understood the man called Peter Ransom when he choked out “Juno,” with the terror of something far worse than death.
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko & Juno Steel, Jet Sikuliaq & Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel, Vespa Ilkay & Juno Steel
Comments: 11
Kudos: 194





	Tend to end up bent and broken

**Author's Note:**

> A request from bluemoodblue for the February whump prompts: Mind Control and Hallucinations. I figured out what I wanted to do at 5 AM yesterday morning, and finished editing at midnight. <3
> 
> Title taken from "Trees" by the Oh Hellos: _'Shaken limbs / Tend to end up bent and broken'_

They found Juno in a rudimentary medical bay, guarded by two goons who fell clutching their newly-slit throats. 

Ransom had discarded his usual flourish. He and Vespa wielded the same violence as they sliced through flesh and sinew. As the pair that was most often at odds, it would have been a marvel to see them in tandem — but, Jet was distracted. The only force that could bring those two into sync was a threat to one of their own, and Jet did not have the capacity to marvel. 

Juno was laid on a metal table that looked more suited to holding a corpse than a breathing body. For a moment that stilled Jet’s heart, he appeared to be just that: gray, still, and lifeless. Then he caught just the barest hitch of his chest, and he could move again. He kicked a dying guard aside to make room at the doors, he and Buddy both flanking the exit with their blasters in hand. 

Ransom was the first to reach him. These were the moments that felt most sincere from the thief, though again, Jet had no capacity for such a thought. Only in retrospect would he realize that he only felt he understood the man called Peter Ransom when he choked out  _ “Juno,”  _ with the terror of something far worse than death.

Juno didn’t respond to his call. Vespa was ashen-faced and all business as she moved to him, fishing supplies out of her pack. She clipped something over his finger, which read out to her comms. “Pulse and blood pressure are spiked,” she announced, voice hurried as she touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “Sweating, feverish. Accelerated breathing.” Swapping away from a doctor’s tone, she rasped, “Steel, you in there?”

The only response was a soft, choking groan, a sound that made Jet’s heart stutter. Juno Steel made his discomfort known to the world, with shouts or complaints or curses. Getting stabbed by  _ Vespa Ilkay  _ had been met with his griping, and that was how Jet was sure he was fine. Silence was reserved for the worst of times. And as Vespa inspected his unseeing eye, as Ransom clung to his hand, he laid in silence. 

It was broken by Rita’s growing distress, her breathing getting quick and short, bordering into panic. “Is - is - is Mistah Steel gonna die?” She hiccuped. 

Ransom tensed. Vespa gritted her teeth. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Something’s wrong with him, but without my lab —” She cut off with a growl. 

“Rita, come here,” Ransom called, extending one hand to his side. She ran to him, hugging him around the waist before grabbing onto that hand and clinging in a crushing grip. For a moment, Jet could not parse between his jealousy and his gratitude for the thief who provided what he himself could not. 

Vespa ran her hands over Juno’s body, examining as best she could without stripping him. The shirt was pulled up, hands flying over his stomach, his back. “No bleeding,” she reported. “No signs of trauma at all but I’ll need a scan to be sure.” She rolled up his sleeves, and that was when she cursed. 

Buddy straightened up. “Vespa?” In a single word, her illusion of composure cracked — the determined set to her face and the fire in her eyes taking a backseat to a quivering voice. She cleared her throat, steady again as she said, “What did you find?”

“Puncture mark,” Vespa reported. “Sloppy work, too. They definitely weren’t drawing blood — something was injected.” She pulled in a breath and then rounded on a nearby table. She was practically throwing anything that wouldn’t shatter on impact as she began rifling through its contents. “You two!” She snapped, rounding on Rita and Ransom, “quit  _ sniveling  _ and help me search. A syringe, a bag, a bottle, whatever looks right, we need a sample of what the hell they put in him.”

“We can’t stay long, darling,” Buddy reminded her, sounding like she hated the taste of each word.

Vespa sneered, looking like she wanted to argue before just biting out, “Fine. If we can’t find it in two minutes, we run. So  _ hurry.”  _

The three of them tore the room apart, emptying tables, drawers, and cabinets like they had a vendetta against the very furniture. At last, it was Rita who came up brandishing a bottle, a tiny glass thing that stood hardly an inch high with the kind of cap you could feed a needle through. “Found something!” She gasped, waving it in Vespa’s face. “There was a shot right next to it!” 

Vespa grabbed it, scanning the label. “I… I don’t recognize this,” she admitted, voice strained. “But we’re outta time, and it’s we’ve got. Sikuliaq, grab Steel. Let’s  _ go.”  _

“I can take him,” Ransom started, for Vespa to round on him with a snarl. 

“I don’t have  _ time  _ for your theatrics. Shut up and  _ listen.”  _

“But —“ 

_ “Ransom.”  _ Buddy’s voice was cold and final. “Vespa is right. Jet, you carry Juno. Ransom, you’re leading the way out of here — you’ve the best memory of all of us. I’ll take up the rear and cover us. Now  _ go.” _

Jet took just enough time to be delicate as he hoisted Juno up into his arms. Juno was panting and whimpering, head lolling against Jet’s chest. Nausea twisted in his stomach, but he tamped it down.  _ No time.  _ Ransom led the way, the rest of them falling into line as they raced for the Ruby 7. Anyone who got in their way met their end by a laser or a knife, Juno’s hurt turning them ruthlessly efficient. Every cut and every shot was vengeful, fueled by the knowledge that Juno needed  _ help _ , and damned was every soul that would slow them down. 

They left a trail of bodies in their wake as they fell into the car, Ransom taking the wheel and peeling out through the atmosphere of Haros. There, laid in Jet’s lap and flanked by Rita and Vespa, Juno started to mumble. 

Rita gasped, “Mistah Steel! Mistah Steel you’re gonna be okay, we’re almost home, okay, just hold on a little longer, okay, boss?”

Juno’s lips moved, voice rasping in his throat. Jet had to strain to hear it, though it was only the same sound, over and over: _ “Where's Ben?”  _

Jet frowned. The name felt familiar, somehow. He looked up to the rearview, catching Buddy’s eye through the reflection, a question in her gaze. “He said,  _ where’s Ben.”  _

Buddy’s eye widened. She started, voice hesitant, “That’s…”

“That’s Mistah Steel’s twin brother,” Rita said, voice soft. 

And  _ then  _ Jet remembered, as Ransom’s breath hitched, as Buddy’s eye squeezed shut. Looking up Juno Steel had brought them a number of interesting headlines. Some were harder to find, took digging and lacked names — a mugging of the president of Venus, the successful robbery of the Utgard express. Others spelled out  _ JUNO STEEL _ in capital letters, over photos of two near-identical faces, one bright with a smile, the other fixed in a scowl.  _ Ex-Writer of Northstar Entertainment Sarah Steel Confesses to the Murder of her Own Son: Twin Brother Left Alone.  _

He remembered he had laughed, and the memory made him sick. Both of them had. It was  _ absurd,  _ just one more piece of bloody drama in a galaxy still ravaged by war, something so petty and unbelievable that it bubbled into humor. An entertainment star got fired for stealing her coworker’s project, and years later turned a gun on her child. Today, his twin laid limp in Jet’s lap, calling for his brother.

His vision blurred. Jet didn’t stop his tears, nor did Rita. They listened in shivering silence to that repeated call,  _ where’s Ben? Where’s Benzaiten?  _ Each grew more desperate, cracking with fear. His eye flickered sightlessly over the roof of the car as it rolled in its socket. 

It wasn’t until he’d taken a fistful of Jet’s shirt that he realized Juno had finally focused, and was looking at  _ him,  _ even with that feverish glint in his eye. “I can count on Jack,” he rasped. It was miserable, pleading, more a question than a statement though he needed it to be true.

Before he left the lighthouse, Juno had asked them about Jack Takano. He claimed to not have heard of him, the creator of Chainmail Warrior Andromeda. And then there was Sarah Steel, fired from Northstar Entertainment for stealing her partner’s plans. The pieces started to fall into place, forming not a picture but a concept, a web of names and feelings and  _ blood, _ and at its center was Juno Steel, tears streaking his face as he tugged at Jet’s shirt, crying, “Where's Benten?!” 

_ “Do something,”  _ Ransom gritted out. His voice shook. Buddy put a hand over his where he was white-knuckling the wheel. 

“We’re almost home, Pete,” she breathed. “Eyes forward. Almost there.”

Vespa crowded against Jet, leaning over into Juno’s line of vision. “Hey,” she called. Vespa wasn’t known for her bedside manner, but all of them had heard how gentle she could be when something real was weighing on them. When Jet started trembling in a warehouse filled with laced needles, when Rita for the first time had  _ taken _ a life, when a mission had cut too close and Buddy’s knees gave out with the relief of finding her family  _ alive, _ Vespa put a hand on their quaking shoulders and went  _ hey, hey  _ so soft that you almost couldn’t believe it was her at all.

Here, she ran a cloth over Juno’s brow, then his cheeks. “Ben’s fine, Juno,” she told him. When Rita opened her mouth, Vespa bared her teeth to keep her silent. She settled, and Vespa returned her attention to her patient, murmuring, “Just sit tight, we’re almost home.” 

His foggy eye found Vespa’s face. “Don’t hurt him,” he begged. “It was me — it’s m-my fault, don’t hurt him, Ma.” 

Vespa’s face was stricken. Her voice wobbled as she ran fingers through his hair. “No one’s in trouble. No ones gonna hurt Ben  _ or  _ you, alright? We’re safe when we’re home. Promise.” 

“Promise?” He gasped. His hand loosened from Jet’s shirt, groping for Vespa. When she let him find her fingers, Juno twisted their pinkies together. “Promise,” he repeated, softer. And finally, he relaxed, eye drifting shut, hitching breaths going slow and deep.

Vespa panted. She blinked, hard, then swiped viciously at her eyes.  _ “Damn it,”  _ she growled. “He’s — He's fine. Just finally fell asleep.”

In the front seat, Buddy leaned against the window of the Ruby 7, her face hidden in one hand. 

  
  
  


“It’s a hallucinogenic drug,” Vespa reported, once she had Juno set up in the med bay and could tear through her books. “Uncommon in solar planets, I can’t find  _ any  _ clinical studies on the stuff. Word of mouth suggests that the hallucinations tend to be linked to…” She drew a breath, sighed, and bit out,  _ “Memories.  _ Usually ones associated with fear.” 

Nureyev bit back a scoff. They had already gathered that much. He kept his grip on Juno’s hand, though Juno was completely unaware. He’d been sliding in and out of consciousness, and what time he spent awake was spent in tears, calling for his brother.

Vespa had hooked him to a saline drip — somewhere between the tears and the drug, he’d need it. She said, “There’s no notes on interactions, so if we can avoid sedating him, we better. Just keep him hydrated and let his liver take care of the rest. I’m gonna make a few calls, see if I can find anyone with clinical experience.” 

“Thank you, Vespa,” Buddy sighed. The captain looked wrung out, carding her fingers through Juno’s hair while he rested. “We should keep two people with him at all times, just in case.”

She volunteered herself at the same time as three others — only Vespa, busy with her comms, hadn’t spoken up. 

A weary amusement tweaked her lips. “Well then. Jet, darling? Would you mind fixing us a quick dinner? It seems we’re camping in the med bay tonight.” 

He looked reluctant, but jerked his chin in a nod. “What should I bring for you, Buddy?”

“The rum in the cabinet will suffice,” Buddy said, giving him a pat and a kiss on the cheek as he passed. “Thank you, dearest one.” 

Vespa grumbled about it as they stole blankets and pillows from their rooms to fix the beds into something comfortable. Several ended up shoved together. Vespa looked like she was ready to strangle him with her stethoscope, so Nureyev kept his bed separate from Juno’s and beside Rita’s instead. Rita passed out headphones so they could watch a stream together without waking Juno, and they ate to the sounds of a werewolf and her hunter falling in love, seated in hospital beds and surrounding their unconscious detective. 

Nureyev couldn’t tear his eyes away from Juno. He wasn’t even peaceful in his sleep, face pinching against unseen nightmares, shivers wracking his body as the drug curdled through his veins. He wanted to be there. Wanted to hold him, and kiss him, and chase every bad memory away. He wanted to hunt down every person who had ever hurt him — Sarah Steel and Diamond and the brutes at the HCPD. He could take comfort, at least, in knowing Buddy’s next heist would be finding the one who decided to hold their detective for ransom, and teaching them  _ exactly  _ what the family did to those who hurt their own. 

If Juno didn’t want to be the one to kill him, Nureyev would beg for the privilege. 

He slept fitfully, and woke just past midnight to the sound of Juno  _ wailing.  _ He bolted upright with the others, the room flying into movement. It wasn’t a sound he’d ever heard before, not physical pain but something far deeper _.  _ Juno pressed his face into his knees and screamed and sobbed, and the name on his lips was  _ Benzaiten.  _

They tried to comfort him. Buddy’s hand made him  _ shriek,  _ grief turning to rage as he swung at her. “Get  _ away _ from him!” He screamed. “Don’t fucking  _ touch him,  _ I’ll kill you, _ I swear to god I’ll kill you —”  _

But he didn’t chase her as Jet hauled Buddy away, just dissolved into tears. He was grieving his brother all over again, clutching at a body that wasn’t there. 

Nureyev knew by looking at Rita that she had seen this before. There wasn’t the shock in her face, just tears. She slid to the ground, padding towards Juno’s bedside with a whimper of, “Mistah Steel?”

“Don’t —” Vespa warned.

But Juno lifted his head, blindly searching until his gaze landed on her.  _ “Rita,”  _ he choked out, and when she clambered onto his bed, he pulled her close, hugging her painfully tight. She blinked her tears down her face and hugged him, letting Juno sob into her shoulder. “He’s gone, he’s  _ gone,  _ he’s gone…” 

“I know,” she whispered, voice cracking. Sobs hitched up her throat. “I know you’re hurting, boss. But I’m right here. And I ain’t going nowhere.” 

  
  
  


Juno hadn’t recovered by morning. Buddy reluctantly ordered the functioning crew back to work, leaving Ransom and Rita to keep watch. Both of them would be useless while Juno was in this state. 

It was easier, regardless, to keep out of their sight. Jet and Vespa had both seen her cry too many times to count, and when she found tears welling up throughout the morning, they knew to let her be. Jet pulled her into a hug, once. Later, Vespa pulled her into a kiss. 

“You holding up alright?” She asked, stroking a thumb beneath Buddy’s eye. 

She’d spent the night coaching herself for this, and the answer came easily to her lips. “Well enough to keep the ship ship-shape,” she asserted, lifting her chin.  _ Confidence, Aurinko,  _ she reminded herself.  _ Even in the face of disaster you must maintain confidence.  _

Vespa saw through it, but only gave a thin smile. She rested her head on Buddy’s shoulder, an arm draping over the other. “It’s freaky, isn’t it? Seeing him all… broken.”

Juno had grown on Vespa in the months since their crash. The two still bickered something awful, but lately they’d been using their words before it could spiral out of control. More often than not these days, their arguments felt more like jabs between old friends than anything cruel. 

Juno had grown on all of them, frankly. Within a day, Buddy had found herself fond of him. Maybe it was that he’d refused to harm her Vespa, coloring his actions in rose. And then he’d stuck around, after being stabbed and offered no reimbursement, walked with her into the metaphorical lion’s den and complained the entire way there and back. By the time he left for Hyperion City, she was truly hoping that he would give her that call. 

After several long moments, she found her words. “It feels rather voyeuristic, all things considered,” Buddy said, and cursed herself as her voice wobbled. She hesitated, before adding, “I looked into all my candidates as best I could. I knew about most of this, on a surface level. Once I met him… once I started to  _ like  _ him… then it just felt sick. I betrayed his privacy before I even knew him, pulled up all his scars and opened them up so I could see how he bleeds —” 

“Hey, hey,” Vespa hushed, straightening up to push their foreheads together. “We’ve all got our reputations. Well,  _ most of us.”  _ Her lips twisted, and Buddy found a laugh bubbling in her chest. “You know Sikuliaq was scared shitless of Steel learning who he was at first. And Ransom knows a  _ freaky  _ amount about us both —” 

“He’s a fan, darling,” Buddy reminded her, tittering now as Vespa rolled her eyes and grumbled. She rubbed at her own eye, thankful she hadn’t bothered with makeup today; she’d look like a plutonian marmoset by now. 

For just a moment, Buddy felt like she could breath. Her mechanical heart was steady. Her love was in her arms. Her family was wounded, but they would recover. 

Then she heard Rita scream. 

The crash that followed had Vespa bolting across the ship before Buddy could even get to her feet. Through the walls, Ransom was shouting,  _ “Juno! Please, stop — AH!”  _

Vespa slammed her hand on the lock, the door snapping open. Inside, Ransom had his arms around Juno’s middle, holding him from behind. Juno clawed at him like an animal, lines of blood raked into Ransom’s cheek. Rita was on the ground, glasses askew and eyes wide behind them. 

“Let  _ go  _ of me,” Juno snarled. He caught Ransom in the eye, and as the man reeled from it, broke free. Instantly Juno was twisting, ignoring Vespa and Buddy in the doorway and instead lunging for  _ Rita.  _

She shrieked his name, scrambling out of the way as he dove to the floor. He crashed into one of the beds, flipped over, and grabbed her by the ankle for a moment before she kicked him in the face. As he cried out and clutched his eye, she shoved herself to her feet. “Mistah Steel, please!” 

He grunted, shook his head once before it snapped up again.  _ “Acquire Target: Rita.”  _

It wasn’t a sound she’d ever heard from his mouth, toneless and dangerous and coupled with a fire in his eyes. Buddy shouted, “Rita, over here!” She hoisted her blaster, careful to set it to stun before pointing it at Juno’s chest, “Stand down! I do  _ not  _ want to hurt you, Juno,  _ please.”  _

Rita scrambled for them, hiding behind her legs. “It’s not his fault, Captain,” she cried, “He’s acting like he did way back then with all the Theia chips and he thinks he’s gotta get me and —”

None of it made sense to Buddy. It didn’t matter. She knew Juno wouldn’t ever lift a hand against Rita, but here he was, standing to flash her a look so cold and so calculating she wasn’t sure she was even looking at Juno Steel at all. 

“Put down your weapon,” he intoned. “I do not wish to hurt you. Net good of: capture Target: Rita and bring peace to the galaxy is greater than net evil of: use of lethal force to incapacitate Buddy Aurinko —” 

His voice halted, eye glazing over again. “Buddy — Buddy —” Like a glitched recording, repeating itself infinitely. 

Ransom jumped him. Buddy tensed — she had nearly forgotten he was there, but suddenly he had Juno on the floor and was pulling ties around his wrists. Juno broke from his reverie, roaring in frustration and thrashing beneath Ransom, so violently that Buddy worried he’d crack his own skull just to break free. 

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, sounding like each moment of this was genuine agony, like it ate him alive to do this. It likely did — Buddy felt her heart squeeze and jump at the sight of Juno bucking like a rabid animal, straining dangerously at his restraints. 

Vespa slid past Buddy, yanking open a drawer and producing a syringe from it, already full. She uncapped its needle and turned. “Hold him down,” she instructed Ransom, who flinched from the thought. But he obeyed, putting his weight down on Juno to keep him still as Vespa fed the needle under his skin, pushing something clear into his veins. “Sedative,” she said, and sure enough Juno was already weakening in his struggles. “We’re gonna have to monitor him for any interactions but we can’t — we  _ can’t  _ deal with him like this.”

Ransom stared at Juno as his strength drained to feeble squirming, Buddy’s own horror reflected in his face. Slowly, so slowly, Juno went still. 

Rita was shivering behind her. “Is he gonna be okay?” She whimpered. 

“Yes… I thought that sort of thing was a delicate calculation,” Ransom said, shooting a look at Vespa. 

Buddy grimaced, tamping down the urge to snap. “I imagine you would feel less stressed if you trusted the doctor’s years of schooling and field experience, Ransom. Especially considering you’ve none of your own. When you are incapable of relying on yourself, it is helpful to rely on another.” 

He looked appropriately cowed by her words. Vespa snorted. “I’ve got one of those for everyone: a safe dose that can knock you out if we need it, all measured out ahead of time. This one was labelled for Steel.” 

Ransom frowned. “That is… an odd contingency.” He knelt down to gather Juno up into his arms and lift him into the bed. 

Vespa’s eyes flashed. “You like to have ten escape routes on every heist.  _ I  _ like to have my contingencies.” 

“I think that’s quite enough,” Buddy said. “Rita, are you alright? Things sounded rather exciting before we got here.” 

“Uhm.” Her voice was small. She cradled her arm, where Buddy could see now it was wet with blood, likely cut in the fall. Before Buddy could call her over, Vespa was already at Rita’s side, tugging her to sit up on the bed. 

“Speak up next time,” Vespa sneered. Her voice was gruff — guilt, Buddy recognized, that she had forgotten about Rita. “That’s gonna need stitches. What the _hell_ was going on with him... “ She trailed off from her muttering, then cleared her throat. “You, uh, wanna watch something while I get to work?”

Rita gave a shaky exhale. “That’s a good idea, Miss Vespa. And, um. Don’t be mad at Mistah Steel, okay? It ain’t his fault. Some bots made him think things he didn’t really think and he only did it cause it was my idea and he almost  _ scrambled  _ himself because of me —” 

“Rita,” Buddy soothed, sitting beside her. “This isn’t either of your faults. For now — Ransom, could you get Rita’s comms?”

Unsurprisingly, he looked displeased by the request. Still, Ransom only gave Juno a sad, lingering look, and then slipped from the room. 

When he returned, it was with Jet in tow, hair rumpled from an interrupted nap. Blood drained from his face at the sight of Rita’s cut. Though it was cleaned of blood, it was a messy wound, deep and jagged. Buddy herself felt rather sick at the image of it. Rita was the least likely of them to get injured during a mission; to see her in such a state was disconcerting. 

She was a strong one, though, and Jet’s questions about a stream kept her distracted as Vespa stitched it shut. Juno was going to beat himself up over that for a long time to come. Buddy frowned, looking to him in his bed. She found Ransom there, once again glued to his side with worry dark in his eyes. 

Another day of getting nothing done, then. Buddy drew a breath and heaved a sigh, settling into one of the beds and pulling out her own comms. She could at least get started on their next mission.  _ Revenge  _ wasn’t something she’d planned before, but she was willing to try most anything once. 

  
  
  


Juno’s head was pounding when he woke. It wasn’t the first time he’d greeted the day like this, but the first in a  _ long  _ time. For a long while, he was wracking his brain to figure out what had made him hit the liquor cabinet  _ this  _ hard. A mission gone horrifically wrong? Someone hurt?  _ His  _ fault? 

He was reluctant, but he opened his eyes. The med bay was dark, illuminated only by the machines that surrounded the bed.  _ His  _ bed. A monitor pulsed steadily with his heartbeat. An IV fed into his arm. And worst of all, the place was  _ full,  _ every single bed occupied. 

For a terrifying moment, Juno thought the entire crew had been hurt, images of crashes or falls, frantically searching for the monitor that would tell him who was alive and who he had lost.

Then he realized that  _ their _ beds weren’t wired up with the same equipment as his. Buddy and Vespa were curled in each other’s arms. Rita and Jet had fallen asleep sitting up, slumped into each other. Nureyev dozed on his back, limbs splayed out at odd angles. 

Juno tried to push himself up, grunting as his skull only throbbed in protest. Blankets fell away from his chest, and for a moment he was the only one awake, surrounded by his sleeping family.

Then Nureyev shifted. His eyes opened, bleary at first but flooding with clarity.  _ “Juno —!”  _ He caught his voice just a beat too late, loud enough to wake their lighter sleepers. 

“Steel?” Vespa grunted. She squinted at him in the dark. “You with us?”

“Uh…”  _ That  _ wasn’t a good question. “... Yeah. Was I… not?”

Her expression was grim. He looked over to find Nureyev’s painfully soft. Already he was moving into Juno’s bed, gathering him up in his arms. “You don’t remember it, then?” Nureyev asked.

“Remember —” He frowned. Old grief stirred in his chest, something stiff and quiet but still very much alive. Something fresher, twitching muscles, impulse he couldn’t deny. _ “Oh. _ K—kinda. What was going on?”

They told him. He didn’t like what he heard. Halfway through Vespa’s explanation, Rita bolted awake and into his lap, and at least then he could worry more about getting her to  _ breathe  _ than what he’d apparently been doing since the crew rescued him. He didn’t have time to feel humiliated about crying for a day and then some when Rita was busy bawling into his chest. 

By its end his insides had been dosed with a cocktail of embarrassment, shame, and grief, topped with an old-fashioned garnish of crippling guilt. But no matter how he felt like he didn’t deserve to  _ touch  _ Rita,  _ she  _ was intent on holding fast. So he rubbed her back and let Nureyev pet his hair, giving them all an incredulous look as he said, “You know, I don’t think I needed a five-person security detail. Pretty sure the big guy could handle me no problem so long as I can’t get a gun or a sharp object or something.” 

“I could, yes,” Jet nodded. “But the point was not security. Unless you mean emotional security, and you do not mean your own.”

He blinked. “What?”

“We were worried about you,” Buddy explained, snorting. “Is that so strange to you? With how many times you’ve woken up in a hospital bed in your life, you must have had someone weeping over your unconscious body at  _ least  _ once before.”

He glanced at Rita. “Yeah, but it’s not like I was gonna croak in the night this time, was —  _ ow!”  _

A pen bounced off his temple. Vespa glowered at him. “Don’t go getting a big head about it,” she grumbled, clambering out of the bed against Buddy’s playful resistance. She pulled a lab coat over her pajamas, and Juno paused as he tracked the movement with his eye.

“Your pajamas have little kitties on them,” Juno blurted. 

She stopped. Even by just the light of the machinery, he saw her ears redden. 

“Well, seems we have our detective back at least,” Buddy lilted. “His filter is functioning precisely as it did before: not at all and actively working against him.” 

Rita stifled a giggle against his sternum. Nureyev followed, a low chuckle that was picked up by Jet, then Buddy, until Vespa scoffed and grumbled as she flicked on the lights. 

And even if Vespa  _ definitely  _ stuck him too hard with the needle, she still couldn’t deny that she had been right there with the rest of them as they waited for Juno to wake. 

**Author's Note:**

> Me writing this fic like I'm gonna showcase the entire CB crew loving Juno Steel so much — 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!!! And thank you to those who have been so supportive of my previous works. Genuinely, your comments give me so much joy and make writing for the tpp fandom a delight.


End file.
